


like i've never been gotten before

by sharoncarters



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Multi, sorry for all the tags, there are like no mary/louis fics so i'm fixing that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharoncarters/pseuds/sharoncarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Stuart is doing just fine with her life, thank you very much, until Louis Conde shows up and changes everything. High School AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you just get me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so. high school au mary/conde. not necessary? probably. but the last episode (2x20) fucked me up so much that i needed to write a fic to fix everything. greer and leith are still together in this, as are bash and kenna. mary and louis end up together even though she's dating francis in the beginning, so if you're here for francis just leave. because i really dislike him.

Maybe it's the bitter wind  
A chill from the Pacific rim  
That brought you this way (that brought you my way)  
\- Gotten, Slash feat. Adam Levine

 

* * *

 

Mary is running unacceptably, annoyingly late for practice. You’d think she’d have learned by now that getting up fifteen minutes early isn’t enough time for her to get ready, but nope. She continues to lay in bed for as long as possible, trying to calculate how long it would _actually_ take to drive to school if she left a little later than usual. 

When she eventually struggles out of bed, she seriously thinks she's going to make it, but then she spills her morning smoothie all over her cheer uniform, and of course she hadn't washed her spare, so she has to spend an extra ten minutes cleaning out the berry stains from the crotch of her skirt to make it look like she hadn’t, in fact, pissed herself. 

And then of course, _of course_ , Francis has to text her “hey babe, are you ready yet?” and she wants to fucking scream because NO, she wasn’t ready the one time her boyfriend was on fucking time. Jesus, what a day. She finally made it out of the house at six forty-five, already fifteen minutes late for practice, only to find someone else sitting in _her_ seat in Francis’ car. 

She throws her backpack and cheer bag with a tad more force than necessary into the backseat of Francis’ disgustingly expensive Mercedes, crawling in and probably giving her neighbors a view of her ass that they didn’t need. 

She takes a deep breath, ruffling her ponytail and trying to look presentable, despite being in the worst state of dishevelment she’s probably been in since freshman year. “Hey, sorry, I’m having the worst morning,” she manages to get out as Francis pulls out of her driveway. “You know those days where every single thing seems to be going wrong? Yeah, multiply that by a hundred, and you have my morning.” Francis gives her a tight smile in the mirror and her stomach churns, and she suddenly remembers that she’s not the only one late to practice. 

The guy in the seat next to Francis chuckles warmly, and she’s thrown slightly off track by the sound of his voice. 

“I definitely know what you mean,” he says, turning around to smile warmly at her. _See_ , now why couldn’t her boyfriend have responded like that? Ever since Aylee—actually, no, she doesn’t want to think about that right now. Francis is tired, she’s tired, they’re both late, it’s fine. They’re fine. 

“”S okay, babe,” Francis says, turning the corner off of her street. “This is my cousin Louis, by the way. He just transferred here. I’m forcing him to join the lacrosse team.” He punctuates this by jabbing Louis lightly in the stomach, smiling crookedly in that way that she loves. _Oh yeah_ , she thinks, they’re definitely fine. Louis just laughs again, which makes the situation seem less tense, for whatever reason. 

She gives Louis a polite smile in the mirror, hoping that she hadn’t seemed like too much of a bitch when she’d gotten in the car. His brown eyes watch her for a second and then turn back to Francis, who’s explaining the dynamics of the team to him.  

Lacrosse at Scottsdale High wasn’t something people took lightly. Other schools had their soccer and their football and their _whatever_ , but Scottsdale had lacrosse. Francis was team captain, of course; he wouldn’t settle for anything else. His brother Bash was second in command, and Mary’s friend’s boyfriend, Leith, was on the team too. Basically, playing lacrosse and playing lacrosse _well_ , unlike some of the poor freshmen who tried to make it on the team, guaranteed people a spot on the top tier of the SHS social ladder. From the look of Louis, with his tan skin and obvious musculature, plus the support he automatically had from Francis, he’d definitely make the team. 

 

* * *

 

Mary kisses Francis on the cheek before leaving to meet the rest of the girls where they were waiting near the bleachers on the other side of the practice field, giving Louis a passing wave and a quick “nice to meet you”. Lola, Greer, and Kenna are already waiting with the rest of the team, and she could see them physically give a sigh of relief when she finally showed up. 

“Coach is late too, you lucky girl,” Kenna announces with a laugh when Mary finally ambles over.Oh, thank god. She did not need _that_ lecture today. 

Mary tries to get through practice like normal, but she's too distracted, constantly stealing glances at Francis (along with Louis) on the field. Why hadn't Francis told her he had a cousin? More importantly, why had she never _met_ him? She's met his other cousins, so it's not like he keeps them a secret. They tell each other everything.   

Their families have been friends forever. Mary's mom knew Francis' dad in college, and when they both got married they ended up in the same general area of Scottsdale. Their lives were literally a Taylor Swift song ("Mary's Song", know that one? Oddly prophetic, that Taylor). They grew up together, were best friends as kids, teased each other in middle school, and _finally_ (emphasis on the finally, because their parents had been waiting with bated breath) got together in high school.

Everyone expected them to go to the same college, get married, and eventually have two kids and complete the little Valois-Stuart family circle. And she was fine with that, for a while. She loved Francis, she really did. And they were great together.

But lately, ever since Aylee's accident, something just didn't feel _right_. She felt...  _stuck_ , almost, and she didn't know what to do about it. It wasn't Francis' fault, really. He hadn't done anything wrong, per se, but he wasn't really doing anything particularly right, either. 

A sudden wobble in her foot broke her out of her thoughts, and she let out a high pitched squeal as her ass hit the mat. _Ow_. 

"Oh my god, Mary, are you okay?" Lola's kind voice broke in through the rest of the squad surrounding her, right at the same time as Coach yells out a sharp, “MARY!" 

"Yeah, Lo, I'm fine," she whispers, trying to pay attention to Coach's tirade and get off the floor at the same time.  

"You've been off your game all practice," Coach Anna concludes, her arms crossed in that this-means-business way of hers.  

"But _Coach,_ ” Mary protests, even though she knows Anna's right, "I'll do better, I promise.”

"Sorry, hun, still gotta bench you for the rest of practice. Sort out what's going on so it doesn't happen again, yeah? We don't need you getting hurt out there." 

She grumbles out a "yes ma'am" and sits down. From her spot on the bench she looks over at the lacrosse field, where Francis is running around all sweaty with his friends, frowning slightly. She starts when she sees Louis' eyes on her, blushes and sharply turns her head away. 

_Way to make an impression, Stuart._

 

* * *

 

After everyone's showered after practice, Mary makes her way to first period English, Greer and Francis on either side of her. Francis had tried to hold her hand but she shook him off, along with the weird look that he'd given her. 

Mr. Narcisse, their AP English teacher this year, looks the other way when they settle in a few minutes late to class. Most teachers that know (or care) about the lacrosse team's practices usually do, but something about Narcisse just weirds her out. He gives off a sort of predatory vibe, and it doesn't help that Lola has the most irrational crush on him, either. Good thing she decided to take AP Lit this year instead, even though she was completely bummed when she found out that Narcisse was switching classes.  

Greer leans into Mary's desk once they've gotten their books out, completely ignoring the whole syllabus spiel their teacher was giving, like pretty much the rest of the class was doing.   

"So who was that guy that you and Francis drove up with?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Greer's not normally one to gossip, but new people in Scottsdale were rare, and being one of the school's so called "elite" meant needing to stay on top of your game. 

"Francis' cousin, Louis," Mary whispers back. She hates Narcisse as much as the next person, but she's not about to get kicked out of class on the first day, especially with the day she's been having already. "He just transferred.”

"How come you've never mentioned him before?"  

"Francis never told me about him," Mary says, furrowing her brow. At that exact second, the door opens and a confused and out of breath looking Louis walks through the door. _Speak of the devil_ , she thinks. 

He's dressed surprisingly nicely, she notes, in a button up black top and slacks. She hadn't noticed what he was wearing in the car, too absorbed in her own mediocre problems, and most of the lacrosse guys tended to stick to jeans and expensive t-shirts, so his outfit was kind of a surprise. 

He quickly walks up to the front of the classroom to show Narcisse his schedule, and sits down after a quick nod from their teacher. She finds herself looking at him a little too long, suddenly finding it odd that he hadn't walked to class with them. Did Francis not know his schedule, or did he not even bother to ask? She feels incredibly rude all of a sudden, and embarrassed on her boyfriend’s behalf. Francis was his family for pete's sake, couldn't he have helped him out?  

She tries to give Louis what she hopes is a friendly, apologetic smile, but he doesn't look her way for the rest of class.  

 

* * *

 

Lunch is uneventful, as always, all of her friends piled up around the same table they've sat at since freshman year. She picks at her salad, idly tracing the heart she had drawn in pink pen around her and Francis' name on the table sometime between tenth and eleventh grade. Greer and Leith are as nauseatingly cute as ever, the blonde sitting in his lap. 

She envies them, sometimes, and the way they've managed to stay so perfectly in sync since they got together (in the freaking sixth grade, by the way). Leith still looks at her like she's the actual sun, and Greer still smiles at him like she can't believe he's actually hers.  

Francis, on the other hand, is busy talking to a member of the team, a guy that everyone calls "the General" because of his superior game strategies, or something. She actually doesn't even know his real name, and she doesn't think anyone else does either. They're discussing different kinds of sticks, or whatever. She's too zoned out to care.

Mary looks around the cafeteria, completely bored and wishing that Francis wasn't ignoring her. She spots his sister, Claude, with her own group of friends, and then, all alone in the corner, Louis.  

She sits up a little higher in her seat. Why hadn't Francis invited him to sit with them? She looks back over at her boyfriend, then at Kenna and Bash and Greer and Leith, each couple completely engrossed in one another. Lola decided not to have a lunch this year in order to take an extra class, that little overachiever, so Mary's basically all alone. 

She gets up from the table, causing a few people to look up in confusion, and walks over to where Louis is sitting, slinging one then another leg across the bench.  

"Hey," she says, and he looks surprised too, not that she blames him. "Want to come sit with us? You look pretty pathetic sitting here all by yourself," she teases, causing him to laugh that deep, warm laugh she had heard earlier that morning in the car. 

"You sure Francis won't mind?" he asks, glancing over at where her boyfriend is most likely glaring at them. 

She rolls her eyes, then shrugs. "You're family, are you not? I'm sure he'll be fine." 

They walk silently back over to Mary's table, and she makes him sit next to her, so as to not ostracize him. It was she that forced him over here, anyway. 

It's tense for a while, but she awkwardly throws out a, "So, Louis, where are you from?" into the mix, and that seems to get the conversation going. Bash and Kenna detach from one another, thank god, long enough to add something to the conversation too, and she feels pretty proud of herself. 

Louis is starting to look more at ease, too, which is a decent change from the stoic guy she'd seen earlier that day.

Maybe her day wasn't going to be that bad, after all.

 

* * *

 

Nope, she was wrong. Yet again, Mary Stuart overestimated just how far being nice could get her. 

Francis, apparently, wasn't too happy with her stunt at lunch. He was completely silent in the car up until he dropped Louis off at his house, where Louis was staying for the rest of the school year, and the second the door closed and Louis got out, he opened his mouth.

"What is with you today?" he asks her, and she has to struggle to not roll her eyes in annoyance.

"What are you talking about?” 

"First you screw up at practice - and yes, I saw that, I don't know who didn’t - then you act super weird on the way to class, and then that whole thing with Louis at lunch? What was that?”

"Oh come off it, Francis," she sighs. "I was just being nice. He's _your_ cousin, why didn't you ask him to sit with us?”  

"We're not all that close.”

"And yet you drove him to school and let him sit in my seat?”

"Dad didn't really give me much of a choice.” 

“Okay....."

"Look, Mary, just forget it. I don't want to fight.” 

"I don't want to fight, either.”

"Can we just forget this day happened? It's been complete shit," he asks, pulling into her driveway. 

She leans over and presses her lips to his, running her hands through his soft blonde curls. “I am _totally_ fine with that."   

"I'll see you at the party tonight?" _Shit_. She'd completely forgot about the party that he throws every year to celebrate school starting, but she nods anyway. "Of course. See you at eight."

“Nine,” Francis says, his mouth turning downwards into a slight frown. 

_Fuck_. "Right, nine, right, sorry." She gives him another quick peck on the cheek, grabs her bags, and runs into the house.

Christ, what _is_ going on with her today? 

 

* * *

 

Francis has been throwing his annual party since they were fourteen, and it had become sort of a tradition. Each year, as they gained popularity, more and more people came. And, each year, more and more drugs and booze were added to the mix. His parents tended to look the other way, but after Aylee's accident last year they'd gotten more strict. Her stomach churned whenever she thought about it, and she pushed the thoughts away as the doorbell rang.

Greer, Kenna and Lola arrived at her doorstep at precisely seven-thirty PM, just like they'd done every year, so that they could get ready. The empty spot where the other blonde should've been didn't go unnoticed, but Mary just squished the feelings down again and let her friends inside. She took them upstairs to her room, her steps seeming too loud in the empty house.  

Her mother, ever the businesswoman, had taken the late shift at the law office tonight, in order to let her and her friends have the house to themselves. On nights like this she felt her father's absence the most, but she tried to put on a brave face. He died when she was just a toddler, but she still remembers his kind smile and they way he used to carry her around on his shoulders. Her mom had to work more often now to support them both, and Mary was extremely proud of her, if not sometimes annoyed. It was great that her mom had work to throw herself into, but sometimes Mary felt like she did it as a way of avoiding her actual problems.

Kenna's voice interrupts her thoughts. "So I brought this blue dress and a black one, but I'm not sure which one I like better. Mary?" 

She looks up, studying her friend's reflection in her lengthy mirror. Obviously Kenna would look amazing in whatever she wore, but Mary says "the black, definitely" anyway. 

They finish getting ready along with the obligatory Snapchats and Instagram pictures, of course, and leave the house at eight fifty-five, not wanting to be too early but still wanting to get there somewhat on time; Francis' house was pretty close anyway.

Mary decided on a simple black and grey dress that she thought looked nice, hoping Francis would like it as well. She felt bad for being so cold with him today, and hoped she could make it up to him at the party. 

She walked in with her friends and tried to ignore the way that everyone looked at them; she never really asked to be popular, which is such a cop-out thing to say, considering the privileges that it granted her. Still, at times like this, it felt suffocating to know that everyone was watching her. She decided that she needed a drink, leaving her friends to their boyfriends (and Lola alone, which she felt awful about but ignored, knowing that if Lola had wanted a date she could've easily snagged one), and made her way to the kitchen. 

She poured herself some punch and turned around. It ended up being a too fast of a turn, because she immediately bumped into someone and spilled said punch all over her dress. Great. 

“I am _so_ sorry," the voice above her says, and she looks up to find Louis' wide eyes staring back at her. She hadn't noticed how tall he was before, either, but now that he was so close it was all she could think about. "Let me find some napkins," he blurts out, desperately searching around the kitchen for something to clean her dress with.   

Mary quickly pours herself another cup and downs it, feeling ridiculously unlucky. He's still looking when she lets out a laugh, reaching up into a cabinet to grab herself a dish rag. After being in Francis' house so often, she's basically memorized where everything is.  

"It's fine, Louis, don't worry about it. This dress isn't new or anything.”

"I'm an idiot," he says with a low chuckle, his eyes flicking down to the wet spot on her chest. Her face warms up. _Shit_. 

"Like I said, don't worry about it. Do you know where Francis is?" she adds, remembering the entire reason she'd worn the dress in the first place. 

"He's in the backyard, I think?" Louis tells her. "They've got a bonfire out there and everything.”

"Oh," she says, which makes her feel like she sounds really dim, but she can't think of anything else to say.

"Come on, then," she gestures to him, hoping that he understands her invitation. He does, thank god, following her through the patio door and into the backyard, where Francis is in fact sitting around the bonfire. 

"You do this every year?" Louis asks as they walk to join him, and Mary just nods, not wanting to say anything else that will make her sound stupid. 

She settles her arms around her boyfriend's neck when she gets there, whispering "Guess who?" in his ear. He just laughs, clearly on his way to getting completely smashed, and pulls her onto his lap. 

 

* * *

 

Somehow the bonfire conversation turns into a round of truth or dare, and then into _Never Have I Ever_. Mary's finally having a good time, settled in Francis' lap and sipping her punch.   

"Never have I ever tried Oxy," Kenna slurs out, and a few of the guys laugh and take a drink. 

"Never have I ever OD'd," says the guy next to her, and Mary feels her heart skip a beat. Everyone else tenses, and she's frozen in Francis' arms for a good twenty seconds before someone else opens their mouth. 

"Am I missing something?" Louis asks, and Mary suddenly feels sick, her drink sloshing around awfully in her empty stomach. It's an innocent enough question, since he's new. What's not so innocent is when Francis adds, "We don't really talk about it; don't worry man."  

She immediately extricates herself from his lap, tossing her drink on the ground and running to the nearest bathroom. She loses her entire stomach's contents in the toilet, and realizes that she's crying as she gets up to wash her face. 

She's unaware that Louis had followed her into the house until she steps out of the bathroom, where he's waiting by the door. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, his eyes searching her face. 

She hopes her face doesn't betray that she was just crying, and nods, giving him a wobbly smile,  "Yeah, I just felt sick all of a sudden. It happens.”

"Mary, I know we just met, but you can talk to me," he responds, obviously not buying her "I'm totally fine" act. And instead of feeling like he's encroaching on her personal space, she feels relieved. No one _ever_ wants to talk about it. But she does, and she needs someone to listen. 

She grabs his hand, which is warm and callused, she notes, and drags him up the stairs and into an empty hallway. She sits down and he follows her, close enough that she can whisper but not too close.  

He looks at her with those kind brown eyes and she finds herself spilling everything. 

"My friend Aylee overdosed last year during the party. She wasn't like, a drug addict or anything, but we were all kind of going crazy that night. It was the first time any of us had tried drugs of any kind, and her body just couldn't handle it, I guess." Mary stops to take a deep breath, wishing that she could stop herself from crying. "She was one of my best friends, and no one wants to talk about it. One day she was there and we were having fun and everything was great, and now she's gone, just like that. And I feel like no one cares but me, you know? Francis never wants to talk about it and doesn't even visit her grave with me, and I'm just hurting, all the time. First my dad and then Aylee and I'm-" her voice cracks, and she can't seem to make herself talk anymore. 

Louis is silent for a while, then he says, "Both of my parents passed away. That's why I'm here."

_Oh my god_. "Oh my god," she repeats out loud, "You probably think I'm so stupid for whining about my dad and Aylee when you just-“  

"Mary, stop. Loss isn't a competition. I just wanted to tell you because, well, because I know how you feel. I don't think Francis knows what it's really like to lose someone, so he's closed himself off to it." 

“I mean, he tries, I _know_ he does-“

"Because he loves you," Louis adds with a weak smile, and she finds herself smiling back, even though the sentence sounds wrong and foreign, somehow. 

"Yeah, because he loves me.” Why doesn’t she feel like it’s enough, though? 

"But before my parents died, I didn't know what it was like either. Be patient with him, and be patient... with yourself. You can't expect to get over your friend's death so quickly.”

"You're right," Mary says, and she feels lighter, almost, now that she's gotten all this off her chest. "I guess I just felt like I don't have a right to be upset, you know? Like I'm still mourning my dad after all this time, and then Aylee, I guess I just feel kind of selfish.” 

"Mary, you are the least selfish person I've ever met, and I know that from being around you for a day. You have to let yourself grieve.” 

His words make her chest feel tight, and her stomach flutters. She looks at him for a while, not saying anything. Why is it that he had been able to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, but Francis couldn't? She just needed someone to _listen_. And Louis had. 

She surprises herself (and him) by scooting over and giving him a hug. “Thank you," she says, and gets up to join the party again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you guys think!!! i'll try to post chapters regularly till it's done, but i mostly just write when the inspiration hits. check out my tumblr: www.jessaminelovelace.tumblr.com/tagged/monde+hs+fic for graphics and other stuff related to the story!!


	2. i didn't know i was lonely 'till i saw your face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope all of this feels realistic?? i know it's moving kind of fast but i'm only expecting this thing to be like...5 chapters? ish. anyway, let me know what you think

I didn’t know I was lonely 'til I saw your face  
I wanna get better, better, better, better,  
I wanna get better  
I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change   
I wanna get better, better, better, better,  
I wanna get better   
\- Bleachers, I Wanna Get Better

 

* * *

 

About a month had passed since the party, and Mary desperately wanted to believe that nothing had changed. She wasn’t good with change, and neither were the people around her (see: Aylee’s overdose, her father’s death, even fucking Narcisse switching classes on Lola). 

But the thing was, she couldn’t ignore the fact that things _were_ different. Not only did she look at Condé differently (that’s what she had taken to calling him in her head now, his last name, to pretend like there was some semblance of distance between them), she looked at Francis differently. She knows that she's _supposed_ to love Francis, and that she's _supposed_ to like being head cheerleader and that she's _supposed_ to want to be prom queen, but she just... doesn't. And that’s sort of terrifying.  

And now, after all the things that Condé had said to her at the party, she’s aware of that fact more than ever. Her relationship with Francis is starting to look more and more like something that her mother and his parents have picked out for her, like a wedding dress or something equally as ridiculous.  

Does she even really love Francis? Or has she just wanted to be in love with him for so long, and their families encouraged them for so long, that she just started to believe what they were selling her? Francis was her first boyfriend, _ever_. And she very much expected him to be her last. She expected to have kids with him, for fucks sake; she was in _high school_!  

They’d had a pregnancy scare, once, and she had felt so relieved when it turned out to be a false positive. But she distinctly remembers her mother comforting her, not even scolding her for having unprotected sex at sixteen fucking years old, as if it was some sort of catastrophe that she _hadn’t_ turned out pregnant. Francis had even looked sort of disappointed that she wasn’t, too, and the longer she thinks about it, the more she realizes how…  _not_ normal that is. Were they really so desperate for her and Francis to be together that they’d have her get pregnant in high school? What _is_ that?   

This entire situation is not helped at all by the fact that Louis is suddenly _everywhere_. He rides to school with her and Francis every day (thankfully demoted to the back seat so that that she could again claim her rightful spot in the Mercedes), he’s in at least half of her classes, he sits with them at lunch ( _okay, that one’s on you, Stuart_ ), and his words from the party keep echoing in her head. _Have patience with yourself_ , he’d said, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it.  

God, this was not good. 

Her mother’s knock on her bedroom door brings her back to reality, and she sits up in bed. She knows she should be at school right now, but she really needed a mental health day. What’s worse is that she has about ten unanswered messages on her phone, one each from her friends, one from Francis, _and_ one from Louis.  

6:31 AM, Francis: where are you?? 

7:01 AM, Louis: Are you okay? 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  

“Mary, honey, are you okay?” her mom asks when she walks into the room. Her hair is down and she’s wearing something other than a power-suit for once, and Mary thinks she’s never looked more beautiful. She wishes her mother would dress like this more often, but she knows that’s not realistic. Work is work, after all. “Did you have a fight with Francis?”

“Oh my god, mom, _no_. I did not have a fight with Francis.” Jesus Christ, why is everyone so obsessed with their relationship? Her thoughts wander to the two different texts she got this morning. Why did Condé always have to say the right thing? More importantly, why couldn’t _Francis_ just say the _right_ thing? 

“Do you want breakfast? I could make a run to Starbucks.” Add that to the ever growing list of why Mary disliked her mom’s new, all-consuming work ethic: she no longer has time to actually _make_ breakfast. Mary remembers a time when they'd all eat together in the mornings, her dad reading the paper, her mom adding a whipped cream smiley face to everyone's pancakes. She misses it more than anything. 

“No, mom, it’s fine. I’m just tired. I needed a break from everything, I guess.” 

Marie runs her fingers gently through Mary’s hair, something she hasn’t done since Mary was a little girl. It made her think of when her father was alive, when everything was just simple, and she didn’t feel like she had to think for hours before making a single decision. Her heart feels heavy in her chest; all she wants to do is just disappear for a few hours, is that too much to ask? 

“Alright, sweetie. Feel better, okay?”  

“Yeah mom, thanks.” 

Her mom leaves the room and (thankfully) shuts the door. Mary bites at her thumbnail, a habit that she thought she’d dropped in middle school, grabs her phone, and texts Francis. 

10:30 AM, Me: i need you. 

She waits for a good three minutes before his response comes in, and when it does she wishes it hadn’t. He’d texted back an eggplant emoji with a question mark, and she grabbed her pillow and screamed into it.  

10:35 AM, Me: no, you idiot. i need you, like, emotionally. will you come to the cemetery with me after school? 

10:40 AM, Francis: babe, i have a game after school?? every other friday, you know that 

10:48 AM, Me: fine.  

She hesitates for another minute, but sends the next series of texts anyway. 

10:50 AM, Me: you can say no if you want 

10:50 AM, Me: but i just need someone, and you said i could trust you 

10:51 AM, Me: will you come to the cemetery with me?

There’s no pause before the answer pings on her phone’s screen.  

10:51 AM, Louis: When? 

10:51 AM, Me: um... now? or after school. if you don’t wanna miss class i totally understand 

10:52 AM, Louis: Do you need me to pick you up?  

She feels her heart start to thump faster and faster in her chest. She hadn’t actually expected him to say yes (or maybe…she did?). She can feel her own hands start to shake as she types a response.  

10:53 AM, Me: no, can you just meet me there? 

10:54 AM, Louis: Give me 10. 

 

* * *

  

For some reason, she hadn’t expected him to come. They’d had minimal one on one interactions since the party, even though they’ve had the typical teenage interactions of the 21st century, which basically means liking each others’ pictures on Instagram and sending each other a stupidly large number of Snaps. 

Yeah, they talked in the car and in class and during lunch, but this was different. They were going to be alone now, and for some reason that made Mary more nervous than she had a right to be. After he’d answered her last text, Mary threw on the most nondescript black hoodie she had on and yelled out to her mom that she was taking the car, not caring if she heard or not.  

Scottsdale was a small town, but there was a good amount of distance between Mary’s neighborhood and basically everything else. She thinks her dad did that on purpose, choosing the place that was the most far out. He was always private like that. 

Her breath catches in her throat when she drives up and sees Louis already there, sitting on the curb in the parking lot. He’s in another one of what she has patented as his “only Louis” outfits: slacks and a shirt slightly too formal for their couldn’t-care-less high school population. She can’t help but catch the smile that comes over his face when he sees her, and she wishes it didn’t effect her so much. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she tells him after she parks the car, which is stupid, because he had literally told her he was cominga few minutes ago. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with those deep brown eyes of his, and she resits the urge to squirm. From the first day they’d met, he’d always looked at her like that, and she wishes she just knew what it _meant_. He had this way of looking at her that made her wonder if he knew everything she was thinking, which was insane. Francis _never_ looked at her like that, and she’s known him since birth. Francis looks at her with desire in his eyes, and love, practically projecting all of his hopes and dreams at her every time their eyes meet. 

Louis looks at her with something…  _more_ , and it makes her feel a way that she’s not supposed to, considering she’s still with Francis (whether or not she’s questioning their relationship).  

“Are you okay?” he asks her again, since she technically never answered his question this morning. 

“Yeah, I just… miss them, today. More than usual? I just woke up and I couldn’t do it, you know? Pretend.” 

“I know what you mean. It’s hard to walk around like everything’s still the same when it’s just… not. It’s like something fundamental has changed inside you, and you’re not the same. You’re just not the same person you were when they were alive.” 

Oh god, _exactly_. How did he _do_ that?   

“Yeah,” she answers him, hands shaking. “That’s exactly it. And I think… I think I want to see my dad first, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course. Do you want me to come with you or just wait here?” 

“Um, you can come with me. I think he’d want to meet you, too.” Mary gives him a shaky smile, trying to hold it together, even though she’ll probably lose it when she sees the gravestone. They start to walk up the small hill towards where he’s buried, and she jumps when she feels his hand on the small of her back. _God_ , it’s so big. Why is she even noticing that? _You have a boyfriend_ , _you have a boyfriend_ , _you have a boyfriend_ , she repeats to herself. And yet Louis’ hand stays there, warm and solid on her back until they reach the spot. 

It feels like she hasn’t been there in months, which isn’t true. She came to visit just a few weeks ago, before the party. Francis hadn’t been there that time, either. She looks at the words engraved on the stone, ones that her mother and their family had picked out. _James Stuart_ , it reads, _loving father and caring husband._ That’s all he gets. One sentence to sum up his entire life. She didn’t want to, but she can feel the tears coming already. She’d barely gotten to _know_ him. He was her father and she loved him so much and she couldn’t even talk to him, not really, because he was gone. Just like Aylee, just like that, in a split second.  

“Hey, Dad,” she forces out, her chest heaving and her words uneven from the effort to hold back her sobs, “I miss you. I miss you a lot. Prom’s coming up, and our last cheer competition, and you’re not here to see it.” She bites back another sob, the tears heavy and hot rolling down her cheeks. “This is my friend Louis,” she tells him, “his parents are gone now, too. Maybe you can say hi to them for him?” 

That’s all she can get out before she can’t hold it back anymore, her sobs coming on full force. Louis doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around her and lets her cry into his shoulder. His shirt is ridiculously soft, and that just makes her cry even harder, because _good job_ , _Stuart_ , you talk about his dead parents and then you ruin his nice shirt.  

His hand strokes her hair and he whispers nice, soothing things that she doesn’t really pay attention to. Just knowing that he’s there, that he’s helping, that he _wants_ to be there and _wants_ to help, is enough. After she’s done crying, she just lets him hold her for a little while. It’s selfish, she knows that, but she can’t bring herself to care. It's been so long since anyone has let her deal with her overwhelming emotions. Her mom had tried to get Mary to go to a counselor after her father died, but after Mary refused to speak for three sessions in a row Marie decided that it was a waste of money. 

What she had really needed was someone that just wanted to be there for her, to _listen_ , and that's exactly what Louis was doing. When she finally works up the courage to look at him she realizes that his eyes are wet too, and instead of laughing or commenting on it (like she knows every single guy, and most girls, at her school would do), she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him as hard as she can.  

She wants to convey to him every single word she can’t say in that hug, and she knows that he gets it when he wraps his arms around her waist. _Thank you_ , she’s saying, even though she’s not actually _saying_ anything. Thank you thank you thank you thank you. 

 

* * *

 

She couldn’t work up the courage to see Aylee too, not after the spectacle she’d made of herself at her father’s grave. Louis doesn’t say anything, which is better than if he had. Just having his solid, constant presence there next to her is enough. She thanks him out loud as she drops him off at Francis’ house, wishing that there was something else she could say.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving her a comforting smile. “I’ll see you in school.” She nods and drives off, feeling lighter than she’s been in a while. There’s just something about him that makes her feel like her problems aren’t insignificant, like they matter. Like she’s not completely irrational for feeling the way she does. She doesn’t know what it is, but she likes it. 

 

* * *

Mary feels guilty for days after her time with Louis in the cemetery. She knows that she didn’t do anything, really, but she feels horrible nonetheless. She tries to be with Francis any chance that she gets. She wants to remember why she loves him, why they’ve been together for so long. And it works, or so she tells herself. He’s sweet, always saying something goofy to make her laugh, peppering her face and neck and shoulders with kisses when they hang out in his room, and she’s fine. She’s _fine_.   

Up until they have their first real, devastating fight. They’ve been together for so long that they stopped telling each other how they actually felt. Sure, they used to fight then they were younger, but those arguments were usually petty and resolved within the day. They were always about her spending more time with the girls than with him, or about video games, or whatever. This one was different. 

College application due dates were coming up, and she decided to apply to Princeton. It was a whim, she knew it was, and she didn't want to get her hopes up. When she mentioned it to Francis, however, he’d replied with, “Do you _really_ think you’ll get in?”, and that completely set her off. 

It was like every little thing that he’d done wrong in their relationship had accumulated up until that exact moment, and Mary just couldn’t take it anymore. “ _Excuse me_?” she tried her best not to screech, but that’s exactly how the words came out. 

He rolled his eyes, which just made her fury grow all the more, and said calmly (so calmly that it made her blood boil), “Come on, Mary, just be realistic. It’s _Princeton_. We don’t exactly live in New York City, or anything. We go to a _public_ school.”

“You know what, Francis? I’m glad you feel that way. I thought that, as my boyfriend, you’d be supportive of me. You think I don’t know that it’s a stretch? I just thought that you’d actually be supportive of something that _I_ wanted to do, for once, instead of belittling me at every turn you get. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore, Francis. I’m suffocating. I’m done. I’m so fucking done, _god_. I’m leaving.”

“So is that what you’ve been doing with _Louis_?” he spits, the name coming out of his mouth like he’s tasting acid, “getting ‘support’?” Oh my god, he did not just— 

“Fuck you, Francis,” she snaps, unable to control herself. “We’re just friends, and if you’re too blind to see that, then really do know nothing about me.” 

Francis looks stunned after the words leave her mouth, and she sort of feels stunned too. But they’re out there now, and she can’t take them back. She’s surprised at how much she means them. He tries to stop her from leaving, grabbing her arm and saying her name, but she just can’t stay there another second. She needs time, and she needs space from him for two goddamn minutes before she goes insane.  

When she leaves his house, she feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She texts the girls in their group chat (cheekily named ‘Squad’ which both referred to their friendship and cheer) to see if they wanted to do a girls’ night. She really needed one. 

 

* * *

Kenna gets to her house first, and immediately jumps on Mary’s bed. “ _Spill_ ,” she commands, and Mary laughs, a real, genuine laugh, for the first time in what feels like forever.  

“Wait till everyone else gets here, drama queen,” she tells the brown haired girl, throwing a pillow at her.  

She tells her friends everything that’s been going on with her and Francis when they all arrive, conveniently leaving out all the parts about Louis. She doesn’t know what’s going on with them just yet, and she doesn’t want to tell them something she’s unsure of herself.  

“I think you should give Francis another chance,” Lola says, ever the optimist. “You’ve been under a lot of stress these past few months, maybe you’ve been taking it out on him?”  

She suddenly feels unsure about their conversation. “Lola’s right,” Greer interjects, giving Mary a kind smile. “You guys are so great together. Remember when you first kissed? I thought you’d never stop smiling. You really love him, Mary, and I know he’s sorry, even though he doesn’t know exactly what to be sorry for. He’s been texting us nonstop,” she adds, and the other girls quickly nod.  

Oh. 

Maybe she _was_ too harsh on him.   

Fuck. 

“I…” she doesn’t know what to say. Kenna’s been oddly silent, but Mary just assumes it’s because she’s too busy taking in all the gossip. And probably because she’s dating Francis’ brother, so Francis and Mary’s breakup means no more double dates for her. “You guys are right. I was just so angry and I wasn’t thinking. I still need a couple of days, though, I think. Just to make sure. I love you,” she adds, tackling her friends into a hug.  

“We love you too, dumb-ass,” Kenna says with a laugh; yup, there she is. 

 

* * *

A few days later Mary’s running late to AP Chem (what else is new), and she decides to take her secret shortcut. There’s an old elevator in a back corner of the school that not a lot of students know about that she’d discovered Sophomore year, and she only uses it in emergencies much like this one. It’s slightly rickety and it kind of scares her, but she’s never had problems with it before, and it still passes inspections every year, as noted by the piece of paper on the inside of the doors that changes once in a while. 

She rushes to get to it and when she steps inside, she realizes that she isn’t alone.  “ _Louis_ , holy shit! You scared me,” she says, heart pounding. “ _Jesus_ , how did you even find this thing?”

“I have my ways,” he says with a sly grin, and she laughs in response. 

“Oh yeah? And what do they entail?” she inquires with a similar smile, instinctively reaching out to press the button for the third floor, only to remember that she and Louis have the same class next period. The elevator creaks in response to their combined weight, the doors struggling to close. It’s not a new sound, so Mary just ignores it. 

“A top secret tour of the school,” he tells her, “one that I conducted all by myself. Turns out that if you’ve lived in Scottsdale your entire life and attend its high school, you don’t care enough to explore the place that you’ll be stuck in for four years of your life. However, if you’ve just transferred, nothings stopping you from exploring.” 

That was a simple enough answer, even though it wasn’t something Mary’s ever thought about. People really don’t care about their school enough to investigate its hidden corners, which is a bonus for her. She herself had found the elevator by accident, no one had told her about it. 

A shrill sound of metal on metal stops their conversation, and Mary freezes.  

“Oh no,” she whines. Apparently their weight was too much for the old elevator to handle, and it was stuck. Well, fuck. What was she supposed to do now? 

Louis looks equally as worried, his forehead creased in thought. “Should we call the front office or something?” 

“Um, yeah, actually,” she answers. “That’s a good idea.” She was too frantic to actually have a coherent thought, worrying about how late she's going to be to class, and she's grateful for his input. Mary's not looking forward to anyone else discovering her elevator, but there’s nothing else they can really do. She finds the number online (thankfully the wifi was still working, but just barely), and has to awkwardly explain the situation to Elizabeth in the front office. The woman is obviously irritated with them, but calls the fire department anyway. 

By the time the fire department arrives to let them out, it’s been about twenty minutes, and Louis has her practically rolling on the ground in laughter telling her stories of his and his brother Antoine’s antics at the old school they went to. It was a military school, which Francis hadn’t bothered to explain to her, that Louis and his brother could no longer afford after their parents passed.

Antoine had ended up staying with another side of their family in Spain, which Louis was both happy and sad about. Obviously, he missed his brother, but Antoine was a troublemaker (which she’d gathered from the stories he told her). 

It was nice to spend some time with Louis after the cemetery. She was glad that it was under more normal circumstances, though, considering the last two times they’d talked she’d been crying. She probably hadn’t left a good impression on him, and she was glad that she could fix that, in however small of a time they had together. 

They both laugh when the elevator finally opens, having missed their Chemistry class and getting detention after school. But, whatever. It was worth it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao who else was screaming at the end of 2x21 when she comes to louis and breaks down and asks him to save her? i was dead. like, i'm literally writing from the grave. if it's a trick i'm going to cry so much, ugh. i just want them to be happy and together and for francis to fuck off. god, i hate that guy.


	3. she's so out of reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven't watched the new episode yet. i'm just going to stay in my happy little monde bubble where i pretend they're together and francis is dead :) a girl can dream. hopefully this fic doesn't seem rushed, it's the first multichapter i've ever written, so.

It's obvious,  
She's so out of reach, and I'm finding it hard  
'Cause she makes me feel, makes me feel,  
Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard,  
'Cause I'm not being me, and it's getting me down  
That she makes me think, makes me think,  
That I try, that I try, that I'm trying too hard again

-Try Hard, 5SOS

* * *

Turns out the Chemistry class that they’d missed was a slightly important one. Who knew? Their teacher had announced a project that was supposed to be done in partners, and since everyone else had paired up while Mary and Louis were stuck in the elevator, they had to partner with each other. 

No big deal, right? At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. 

But Mary stills feels slightly odd driving up to Francis’ house on a Friday afternoon knowing full well that he wasn’t going to be there. It was the first time that she was going to Francis’ house and not planning on actually seeing _Francis_. Weird.  

This was also the second time in a row that Louis was missing a lacrosse game for her, which made her feel completely guilty and yet… something else at the same time. She hadn’t even realized when she’d asked him to go to the cemetery that he was supposed to play in the game that day, too, but he’d dropped everything to go with her anyway. And now he was doing it again.

She knows it’s slightly unfair that she was judging Francis so harshly for not offering to come right away, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to her until she texted Louis that day. Francis had never bothered to come to the cemetery with her before, so why had she expected something different? Louis’ answer, just a simple “When”, had made her completely stop in her tracks. She didn’t even bother to think that he’d risk missing school for her, but he had. (And Francis hadn't even asked.) 

When she pulls up to the unfairly large house, she sees an unfamiliar motorcycle sitting in the driveway, and knows immediately that it doesn’t belong to Francis. His type of transportation is much larger, and usually involves him pretending to work on it in the garage while Bash is the one that actually does all the work. Oh yeah, and annoyingly expensive tires that made his car taller than it had any right to be. Louis had told her in her car after she’d broken down at her father’s grave that he had run to the cemetery to meet her, which had made her feel even more guilty, even though he tried to play it off like it was no big deal.  

He must’ve just gotten the bike delivered from his old house or something, because he still rode to school that morning with her and Francis. Or maybe it was easier to just save money on gas, or whatever. She doesn’t know why she’s thinking about it so hard.  

Louis opens the door wearing the most casual outfit she’s ever seen him in, sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, and that does things to her that she can’t explain and really just wants to ignore. He smiles at her when she fumbles out an awkward, “hi”, and she follows him inside and down to the basement, which makes her stomach turn as the memories of her argument with Francis resurface. They've spent a lot of time down there together, from parties to simple movie nights. Still, it’s the emptiest space in the house, and they need the room to work on their project. 

Louis has been staying in a room down the hall from Francis. The Valois family had plenty of them to spare in their, well, _mansion_ was the only word she could think of to describe it. Mary wasn’t poor, but when her father died it stretched her family’s finances pretty thin. That’s why she had to rely on Francis to drive her to school all the time, and had to steal her mother’s car when Marie wasn’t working. It’s not that they couldn’t afford nice things; they could, which was why the one car they did have was an expensive one. It’s just that now without her father’s income they could only afford _half_ of the nice things that they used to, hence the reason why Mary has no car of her own. 

Once they’re settled on the couch, Louis turns to her, unbelievably gorgeous, facial hair and all (Mary used to think she liked her men clean shaven, but maybe she just never had anyone to compare to) and quirks an eyebrow; “So, what do you like?”

She feels her face heat up, “ _What_?”

“For the project,” he quickly adds, pointing at the papers spread before them on the table, “which project would you like to do?”

“ _Oh_ ,” oh god, Mary, head in the gutter much? Hey hormones, please chill, thanks. _Francis, Francis, Francis_ , she chants in her head. “The, uh, the second one looks fine. Not too easy but not too hard?” Holy shit, did she really just _say_ that? Thankfully, Louis doesn’t pick up on the double entendre in her words, or if he does, he blessedly doesn’t say anything. 

“Sounds great. Do you want to do the written part first, or the presentation?” 

She quickly scans the assignment, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth - a bad habit that she really needed to get under control. “Presentation,” she decides. 

 

* * *

 

They’re hard at work for an hour or so in a tense, awkward silence, before either one of them decides to talk. And when they do, it’s at the same time.  

“Mary, I-“

“I’m sorry I-“ 

They both laugh then, the tension in the room dissolving. She doesn’t know why she suddenly has such trouble talking to him. She’d had no trouble spilling her guts the last few times they’d talked. 

“You first,” he smiles, nudging her knee with his. She tries to hold back a shiver. 

“I’m sorry that every time we talk I cry on you,” Mary says, giving a small laugh. “Or… around you. Your shirts are super comfortable though, so thanks for that.” 

He laughs, louder this time, and she wishes she didn’t catch his eyes flick to her lips for a split second. “Don’t worry about it, that’s what washing machines are for.”

Just then her phone lights up, and she averts her eyes from his and picks it up to unlock the screen. It’s a text from Francis. 

5:30 PM, Francis: really sorry about the other day. movie tonight? 

5:31 PM, Me: can’t, working on a project

She leaves out the fact that she’s already at his house and working on a project with the cousin that he accused her of cheating on him with. She doesn’t think he’d take kindly to knowing that she’s spending time with someone he’d rather not have her spend time with, especially after he already had some not-so-nice ideas of what they did together.  

5:31 PM, Francis: can’t or won’t?  

What is he on about?  

“What the _hell_ , Mary?” Oh, fuck, it’s Francis. How could he have possibly gotten back from the game so quickly? How the hell hadn’t she heard his steps coming down the stairs? Was she really that oblivious? “I try to fix things and you _lie_ to me? Is that where we are now?” 

“I’m not _lying_ , Francis, I said I was doing a project, which I am.”

“With him,” Francis hisses, as if he can’t even stand the sight of Louis in his own home. “On that couch, where you know we-“ 

“Enough!” she cries, hoping that it’ll silence him. It was the couch they’d had their first kiss on, and many subsequent kisses after that. She hopes Louis doesn’t get the wrong impression from Francis’ words, because she’s not _that_ girl. She doesn’t fuck her boyfriend in his basement and then lure other men there, like Francis is obviously implying. It’s just a couch! An important one for their relationship, yes, but if she kept Louis from every place that was important to her there wouldn’t be a single area of Scottsdale that they could possibly meet in. 

“Francis, relax. We weren’t doing anything but our work,” Louis interjects. Mary nods, but she doesn’t think his words are helping the situation at all. When Francis gets an idea in his head, nothing can stop him from constantly thinking about it. And she knows what idea he’s getting from her actions, no matter how wrong and misguided it might be.  

“When you figure out what you want, I’ll be in my room,” he says, angrily stomping up the stairs. Mary feels a flash of heat go through her, and knows that her face is beet red. Ever since Louis arrived he’d been acting more and more like a petty child whose toys had been taken away and he didn’t know how to share. She wishes he wouldn’t embarrass her like this, they aren’t _kids_ anymore, _j_ _esus_. 

Louis turns to her, mouth set in a thin line. “I don’t know why he doesn’t listen to you,” he says. "Any guy would be lucky to-" his breath catches in his throat and he stops himself, his eyes moving to glance at the stairs that Francis had just stomped up instead of at her. She thinks she knows exactly what he was going to say, but she doesn't push it. The relationship they've managed to build in the midst of everything is fragile, one step away from being too much, too _there_ , and she isn't ready to go there just yet. And then there's Francis, up in his room, the room that she _has_ been with him in, and... that's that. She's still with Francis. So they both keep their mouths shut.   

“I think I should just go,” she says, looking down at her feet. “We can work on this another day. Maybe at my house, this time,” Mary adds, giving him a weak smile. She can’t look him in the eyes because she knows all of this is her fault. If she just stopped leading him on, or if she could just figure out what she _wants_ \- but no. She won’t go there, at least not today. 

“I’ll see you at school,” she decides on saying, as she grabs her coat and her purse. She hates how weak she is for not being able to spare looking back at Louis as she walks up the basement steps, and hates the fact that the look that he gives her makes her chest ache. She speeds up her gait in order to get away from it. 

 

* * *

The next day Francis is late to pick her up for practice. Even after all the texts she sends, he’s still not answering his phone, and all her friends are already there, because they’re not constantly struggling with time like she is. Her mom’s already at work, because the universe clearly has a vendetta against her, and she has no one else to call. If she’s late for practice one more time Coach is literally going to have her ass, and as a last ditch effort she calls his house, _hoping_ that he isn’t in fact ignoring her like the stubborn idiot he is, even though she suspects that that's exactly the case. 

Mary breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is answered, and blurts out a quick, “Oh, thank god, Francis, we are _so_ late, where the hell are you?”

She lets out a sharp breath when the person on the phone, clearly _not_ Francis, asks, “Mary?” Well, fuck. “Francis already left, I thought he-“ 

“Well, you thought wrong,” Mary mutters bitterly. She is going to kill him, she really is. Ignoring her texts is one thing, but actually sabotaging her athletic career is another. Sure, cheer isn't the most impressive sport that a girl could do, but it looks nice on college apps and she likes it and she's  _good_ at it, he _knows_ that. 

“I can pick you up,” Louis is saying on the other line, and she really really wishes he wouldn’t. She doesn’t need another reason for Francis to be mad at her, but god, what choice did she have? 

“You really don’t have to,” she tells him, and hears him chuckle on the other end. 

“It’s not a big deal, Mary, I’ll be there soon. You’re lucky we were both running late this morning,” he says in parting, and Mary wishes that “running late” was all that it was. She’s grateful that he doesn’t mention Francis though, either from not realizing what was going on or just ignoring it. Either way, she doesn’t need to have _that_ particular conversation this early in the morning. 

Clearly she didn’t think her decision through, because her stomach swoops when ten minutes later Louis pulls up in his _motorcycle_. She’s never actually been on a motorcycle before, and when he hands her the spare helmet she has a mini panic attack. 

“I think I’m just gonna… skip practice today. Thanks though, really,” she smiles at him, half joking and half being serious, eyeing the bike warily. “You should just go to school without me.” 

Louis is laughing before she’s even done talking. “Stop being dramatic,” he says, “and get on the bike. You won’t die, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Parker,” Mary deadpans, which just makes him laugh harder, and brightens her up a little. Usually her friends don’t get her dumb movie references, except for like, Leith, and she doesn’t hang out with him that often. Francis is always too preoccupied to watch the movies with her, and when he’s not busy he’s talking about lacrosse or college or whatever.  

She hesitantly gets on the bike behind him, not wrapping her arms around his waist for as long as possible, until he finally tells her they’re leaving. She closes her eyes through the entire ride, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palms, which is oddly calming. She opens them when she feels the motorcycle slowing down, taking in the familiar field that the team always practiced in. Coach is there already, and Mary could see her crossing her arms all the way from the parking lot. This was going to be a nice conversation. 

She thanks Louis and runs over to where the rest of the girls are, and hears Kenna whisper, “Since when does Francis have a bike?” when Coach stalks over.

Mary only has time to answer, “He doesn’t,” before Coach decides to lay one on her. She can’t help but look over to where the boys are practicing, spotting Francis’ blonde head among them. She feels a wave of anger coming over her, silently blaming him for this entire ordeal. If he wanted her to stay away from Louis, he had a shitty way of accomplishing it, considering him avoiding her this morning meant that she had no other way to get to practice.

Of course, logically, he had no way of knowing that, but it didn’t stop her from being mad anyway. Bash always drove to school alone like the broody, stoic guy he was, and since he and Kenna started dating he drove her, too. Mary and Francis had always gone to practice together, it was just their thing. She didn’t think he’d be able to resort to such pettiness, but then again, there was never a real threat to their relationship before. 

She frowns when she realizes what she’s just thought. She knew she should be trying to listen to Coach Anna, but now her heart was beating too fast to think straight. _Was_ Louis a threat to her and Francis’ relationship? They were just friends, right? 

“Mary, are you even listening to me?” Anna asks, and Mary knows she’s fucked. She tries to talk her way out of it, but Anna benches her anyway. “I’m disappointed in you, Mary,” she tells her, “I told you to get your personal life sorted out, did I not? One more incident like this and I might have to take your position away.” Mary feels her breakfast rising in her throat. She nods weakly at her coach, but she just can’t bring herself to care. Everything is suddenly going so wrong in her life, and she has no idea what to do about it. 

 

* * *

_Two can play at this game_ , Mary thinks angrily to herself when practice is over. She’s done her best to memorize everything that happened despite not being able to go through the moves herself, and was the first one dressed and out of the locker room afterwards.   

She could easily ignore Francis like he was ignoring her. She didn’t even bother to wait for her friends, stalking towards English and not bothering to respond to all the people greeting her in the hallways. Greer tries to make conversation in class, but she offers little in response, rolling her eyes when her friend asks about Francis.  

She knows that she’s being harsh, but honestly… he started it. If he wants to act like a child, she can do the exact same thing. 

It doesn’t matter that they’ve chosen their classes specifically to be together, or that she’ll definitely have to sit next to him at lunch. She really doesn’t want to deal with their problems, for once. 

Mary’s always the one that caves first. She’s always the one that wants to solve things, to solve _people_ , even, although she knows that sometimes that doesn’t work. She’s the one that calls first, the one that organizes dates, the one that wants to talk when all Francis wants to do is ignore the situation and move on. 

Well maybe she _doesn’t_ want to move on, what’s so wrong with that? Maybe she just wants him to engage in a decent conversation about their relationship, _for once_ , instead of texting her friends to have them tell him what’s wrong or even, god forbid, sending his mother to do the job. 

This time she won’t be the one to cave first. She _won’t_. 

  

* * *

 

She caves first. About a week after the driving incident, but whatever. She never said she was strong, okay? And for what it was worth, she actually missed Francis. Even though he was being stupid and stubborn, that was what she’d once liked about him the most. Loved, even. She loved that he stuck to his beliefs no matter what, that he trusted his gut when she couldn’t. 

They _were_ best friends once, weren’t they? Before Greer and Lola and Kenna and Aylee, she’d had Francis. He was the one she spent summers making sandcastles with, running around his neighborhood with, and convincing his father to build them a treehouse in his backyard. So they were going through a rough patch, so what? They could get through it, right?   

That’s what she told herself as she stepped up on his front porch. She’d walked to his house, since her mom was at work and she didn’t want to bother her friends with carting her around. She needed the long walk to clear her head, anyway; to strengthen her resolve, too. And at least with the walk, she could turn around whenever she wanted. And it was exercise, right? After all the times she’d been benched at practice in the recent weeks, she desperately needed it. 

It was getting colder the closer they got to December, or at least as cold as it could get in Scottsdale, anyway. The brisk air had kept her sharp, at least, and walking at a quick enough paceto get to Francis’ before it got too late. 

She dug out the key from under the rug and let herself in, hoping that no one else was home. If she and Francis were going to get into another fight, she really didn’t need the rest of his family hear them go at it. Maybe her surprising him would remind him of how much fun they used to have together, how she used to sneak into his room at night so that they could play video games and eat popcorn and kiss, pretending like his parents had no idea what they were doing even though they totally did. 

She makes her way up to his room, hoping that he was actually there — his car was in the driveway, but maybe he went out somewhere with Bash, or something. It's odd to think that they were once so close that she knew where he was at all times. 

She opens his door and really wants to believe that she isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. Francis is there, yes, but so is Lola. And they’re… kissing? It takes her brain a few seconds to actually process what’s going on, and when it finally clicks she feels like she can’t breathe. Oh, my god. Apparently she says it out loud because Lola jumps, her eyes flying to Mary, and Francis fumbles with his shirt, pathetically flustered. 

“Mary, I can explain—“ he starts to say, but she wildly shakes her head. Oh my god oh my god oh my god! She knew they were in a bad place, but she didn’t think it was _that_ bad. She turns around and runs down the hall, slamming his door behind her, not even knowing where her feet are taking her until she arrives and Louis’ door, pounding frantically. 

He opens the door in a completely disheveled state, shirtless and hair mussed. She realizes that he must have been sleeping, and wonders exactly what time it is. Maybe her walk had taken longer than she’d noticed. 

“Mary? What-?”

“Don’t ask questions,” she begs, her hands shaking. “I just need… I need to get out of here, Louis, please. _Please_ ,” she looks into his confused eyes, needing him to just do what she says. Just then Francis’ door flies open, and he and Lola emerge, looking disheveled from trying to right their clothing so quickly. Louis looks back and forth from them to her, and runs into his room to get something. He comes back fully clothed, slams his door shut, and grabs her hand. They run down the stairs as quickly as possible, leaving Francis and Lola behind protesting. 

She really, really, _really_ doesn’t want to hear it.  

Louis takes them to his motorcycle, looking at her with something indecipherable in his eyes. “Where to?” he asks her, and she’s never been more grateful in her life. 

“Anywhere,” she tells him, hoping that he gets them as far away from this house as possible. She only realizes that she’s crying until the cold hits her face at full speed as he pulls out of the driveway. 

 

* * *

  

Louis takes them to a park on the outskirts of town, one that she hasn’t been to since she was at least ten. He lets her cry on him for a while, rubbing her back and not saying anything. He’s remarkably good at knowing what to do when she’s upset, something that Francis has never been particularly adept at. She can think that now and not feel guilty, because she knows her relationship with Francis is over. No amount of texts from him or Lola can undo what they’ve done.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis finally asks her, maybe an hour later. She’s lost track of time, not really caring about going home, knowing that she’ll have to see her mom and explain everything. She doesn’t want to see her mother’s disappointed face when she tells her that she’s done with Francis for good. She also doesn’t want to have to deal with the reconciliation that she knows their families will try to force. She just can’t do it, she  _can’t_. 

“Not really,” she mutters, looking up at him. God, he is so incredibly good looking, why hadn’t she ever stopped to really appreciate it? “But I guess I should anyway, huh?”

“You know I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, Mary,” he gives her a smile that goes straight to her core, and she shivers. “Don’t know how anyone could, to be honest, you stubborn brat.”

She laughs at that, wiping at her face and sitting up straight. They’d been sitting on a pair of swings, her head on his shoulder, and although she misses the contact she needs to really look at him. 

“Can I ask you a question, though?” he asks quietly after she realizes that she doesn’t know where to start.

“You just did.”

He playfully rolls his eyes at her, which makes her giggle. “Why were you with Francis, anyway? You two didn’t seem happy together.” 

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. Everyone just always assumed that we’d get together eventually. I guess everyone wanted us to be a couple so much that I started to want it, too. I never really questioned it before.” 

“And now?”

“He’s just not the person I thought he was. Maybe everyone hoping we’d last wasn’t a good enough basis for a relationship.” Saying it out loud isn’t as easy as saying it in her head. Obviously, they’re over. But it’s such a big change. They’d been together their entire lives, and now what? She finds herself pettily thinking about prom, wondering if they can possibly still be elected king and queen even if they’re broken up. What will everyone think? Their parents will be devastated, obviously, and how can she face Lola after this? 

And then she looks at Louis and thinks, who cares? It’s just _prom_. And Francis is just her first boyfriend. He’s also her first love, but the longer she thinks about it the more she starts to understand that their relationship was based on basically nothing. They were shoved together by everyone around them and they didn’t even have a chance to wonder if it was the right thing before they were so deep that they couldn’t go back. 

“And what about Lola?”

“I can’t be mad at her. She’s one of my best friends. I know that… I know that this was a mistake. And Francis and I have been on the outs for a while, so I guess this was for the best? And if she wants to be with him I can’t stop her. The heart wants what it wants, right?”

He looks at her with those eyes and she wants to kiss him. She just wants to throw her arms around him and forget everything and everyone. When was the last time that she’d kissed Francis? When was the last time that she’d even _wanted_ to? 

“You are the most incredible… the most _forgiving_ person I’ve ever met. How do you do it?”  

“I’d like to think people are more than just their mistakes,” she tells him, and she means it. She can forgive Lola, and she can even forgive Francis, although she knows that she no longer wants to be with him. She’ll move on. She _wants_ to move on. 

So she leans over and kisses Louis. He’s so surprised that he almost falls out of his seat, which makes her laugh and kiss him deeper. His hands tangle in her hair when he finally gets into it, and it’s like a sigh of relief. Mary's wanted to do this since he got to Scottsdale, probably, even though she’s never admitted it to herself. 

Louis pulls back, though, and she lets out a confused sound. They’re both gasping for air, and she can’t think when he’s touching her, which he can probably tell because he pulls away far enough to look at her. 

“I want to, Mary, _god_ , you know I want to. But I think you need some time to yourself, to just… well, think. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

It’s the best possible thing he could’ve said in the situation. Mary throws her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder. It’s so nice to have someone that just _gets_ it. Someone that takes into consideration what _she_ wants. No one has done that for her in a long time.  

They stay in the park for a long time, longer than they probably should, but she doesn’t care. She feels happy, despite everything. She can deal with her life later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> francis is a giant dickhead and he's petty and annoying and childish and i hate him. have i made that clear yet? i'm not good at writing kissing scenes so i hope that was decent, idk. tell me if you liked it/hated it/mistakes you've found (cause i'm constantly finding them and having to update)


	4. i'm so used to being used

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look who finally updated!!! i'm so sorry to keep you guys waiting. i got really sick at the start of june (which is no excuse, i know), and i still kind of am. i just wasn't really feeling this chapter for a while, so i'm sorry if it sucks. i don't know why i had such a hard time with it. also i'm pretty sure it's shorter than normal. i suck

When Louis finally drives her home Mary doesn’t want him to leave, looking up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster in order to convince him to stay. Her mother’s working another late night, and even if she wasn’t, she’s always let Mary come home whenever she wanted, as long as Mary woke up for school the next day. 

She wraps her arms around his waist, silently pleading, and he relents with a soft laugh. “You know you could sell the ocean a cup of water, don’t you?” he says, and she just gives him a cheeky grin. “How could anyone ever possibly say no to you?”

“I don’t know,” Mary quips, somewhat bitterly while she’s unlocking her front door, “ask Francis.” She throws him a playful smile over her shoulder to show him the fact that she’s joking, even though she’s mostly serious. 

“Ouch,” he grins, poking her side, “remind me to never be on the receiving end of your anger.”

“Mmm, not likely. You’re just too cute.” He looks so genuinely surprised by her comment that she has to kiss him. She just has to, there’s no other option. She knows he told her that she could have time to think, but she doesn’t want to think. That’s all she ever does, think think think. She just wants to feel something besides anger and disappointment, for once. He looks even more surprised by her kiss, and it makes warmth spread through her entire body. Francis never looked surprised when she kissed him. He always seemed to be expecting it, like it was her job. 

Mary knows that she should be checking her phone, trying to deal with the situation at hand, but she doesn’t care. She sits on the couch with Louis for even longer before he has to leave. They _do_ have school tomorrow, however irrelevant it may seem, and they both need their sleep. They talk about everything, from his brother to his parents to her father to Aylee. She tells him about Princeton and he looks so proud of her for even applying that she wants to cry. He always, _always_ does the right thing and she is so immensely happy to have him in her life. 

She really, desperately doesn’t want to let him leave, but he does anyway, promising to drive her to school the next morning. She wishes that there was some way that she could protect him, but she knows that having a boy sleep over would definitely be crossing the line, no matter how lax her mother is about their house rules. Still, she knows it won’t be easy for him to go back to that house, with Francis and probably the rest of their family up and waiting for him. And she really, _really_ hopes that Francis doesn’t decide to do something rash, like asking his parents to kick Louis out. Now _that_ was something she could never forgive him for. 

 

* * *

 

Mary’s mother wakes her up the next morning without even a simple “good morning”, immediately launching into a speech that starts with the words “Catherine called.” Mary barely has time tomorrow let out an annoyed groan before her mother starts defending Francis. And, to be honest, Mary no longer cares. Nothing her mother says will change her mind this time. She’s sick of forgiving Francis, of understanding Francis, of _feeling sorry_ for Francis. If he had thought of her before making decisions, and not after, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. She was done. 

So she let Marie spout whatever nonsense she wanted, waiting until her mother paused to take a breath before saying, “Are you done?” Her mother actually looks stunned, which is new, considering she’s always so confident about her arguments, being a lawyer and all. 

“Well, yes,” Marie starts, “but—“

“No buts, mom. It’s over. I don’t care what you say, you can’t change my mind.”

Her mother looks at her and quirks an eyebrow. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ , mom,” Mary nods emphatically, as serious as she can be when she’s just woken up and it’s five-thirty in the morning. “He cheated on me. We can’t go back from that. And even if we could I don’t… want to. We haven’t been good for a while.”  

“Well, at least tell him that it’s over. That he has no hope. You owe him that much, at least.” Mary is of the opinion that she doesn’t _owe_ Francis anything, but she just nods again and shoos her mother out of her room so that she can get dressed. Her stomach is in knots about seeing Louis again, in the most amazing way. No one has made her feel like this in so long, happy and giddy and excited. It’s a nice change. 

While she’s waiting for him to get to her house, Mary finally turns on her phone, only to be bombarded with almost a hundred texts. Francis’ texts start out with “let me explain” and end with her name in all capital letters, as if she’s somehow to blame. She rolls her eyes and deletes those. The ones from Lola are frantic and apologetic, and as much as she wants to be mad, she can’t be. She knows Lola is less to blame than Francis is — Mary knows firsthand how _persuasive_ Francis can be, and how he could lash out when he’s angry. And the thing is, that’s not her problem anymore. She doesn’t care what Francis does, and if Lola wants to be with him, good luck to her. And if she doesn’t, then even better. Because Mary’s not sure that Francis even knows how to treat a girl right, let alone one as amazing as Lola. Their friendship isn’t worthing risking over a guy, one that Mary knows for sure that she’s no longer in love with, and never will be.

Louis pulls up just as Mary’s done reading through the rest of her texts, and waits until she puts her phone away to toss her a helmet.  

“Now that you and Francis are over,” he says, quirking an eyebrow to confirm, which she answers with a nod and soft laugh, “I can tell you how great I think your legs look in that uniform.” Mary feels her cheeks heat up and covers up her dorky grin by putting the helmet on. She doesn’t want the ride to practice to end, but at some point it does and she has to take her hands off of him. She squeezes his hand before she heads in the direction of the squad and tells him she’ll see him later. 

 

* * *

 

The greatest thing about high school, in Mary’s opinion, is the fact that work actually gets done there. Not always, but it gets done on occasion. So when Mary feels like avoiding something, or in this case, some _one_ , she has things to focus her energy on. For example, cheer practice — Coach actually praised her instead of yelling this morning, which felt amazing — or the riveting lecture that Narcisse was giving them about _Hamlet_ right after. 

Francis keeps trying to get her attention, which she promptly ignores, and laughs a little when Narcisse calls him out in front of the entire class. He shuts up after that. 

She’s texting Louis through the whole thing, trying to smother her laughter and hiding her phone under her desk. She can see him in the front of the room doing the same, and her skin feels incredibly warm. Greer’s giving her weird looks, but she doesn’t care. She’s happy. 

 

* * *

 

Lunch is weird, to say the least. Everyone at the table is extremely tense, obviously in the know about what happened. Trying to confront it is probably not her best idea, but she does anyway, spouting some nonsense about how everything’s fine. What she really wants to do is hold Louis’ hand and stick her tongue out at Francis, but she knows that’s not mature, no matter how nice it would feel.

What she actually does is try to crack a joke, except Louis is the only one that laughs; which is extremely sweet, actually, but suffice to say it doesn’t exactly help the situation.  

So, she decides to finally take action. 

 

* * *

 

After school, Mary sends out a group text to the girls, and one to Lola separately, telling them to meet at her house. The text to Lola tells her to come early, so that they can talk, and her friend readily agrees. She sends another text to Louis telling him to wait a few extra minutes for her. 

Then she squares her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and walks to Francis’ car. He’s not expecting her, obviously, because he’s talking to the General and his eyes widen when she nears his car. He shoos the other boy away, running his hands through his hair — a nervous habit that she used to find endearing, but is now completely unaffected by. 

“Hey,” he says first, because once she had stopped walking she realized she had no idea what she was going to say. Actually, scratch that. Mary knows exactly what to say. What she realizes while standing there is that she wants an apology. An honest-to-god, realistic, heartfelt apology. 

What she gets is Francis. 

“Let me explain,” he starts, and she’s already shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence. 

“I don’t care,” she tells him, and knows that she actually means it. No more wheedling his way out of it, kissing her to distract her, sending in his mother (and hers) to solve his problems for him. None of that. “I want you to know that there’s no possibility that we’re ever getting back together. So say what you need to say, let it all out, because I’m done. Completely and finally done, Francis, alright?” 

“So that’s it, then?” He spits, and she jumps back a little bit. She’s never seen him this vindictive before. “You run to Louis to forget all of your problems, let him erase your pain, and suddenly we’re over?” 

Mary doesn’t think she’s ever been more angry or disgusted in her life, except maybe when she had found him and Lola on his bed. He’s completely missed the point, yet again, misinterpreting all of her actions and feelings about the situation, like he did with Princeton, or when her father died.

“Louis doesn’t _erase_ my pain,” she snaps, “he made me realize that it’s worth feeling! That I can’t just live my life ignoring it!”   

Francis rolls her eyes, and that just angers her even more.  

Louis was the first person who asked her what _she_ wanted, like Francis should have done. He's the one who visits Aylee's grave with her, he's the one who helped her when no one else would, and he's the one that listened to her when no one else bothered. He’s the one who was her friend, the one who never expected anything of her besides wanting to be around her, wanting to have her in his life, despite Francis. 

_God_ , she’s been so blind. She loves him. She loves him she loves him she loves him. She loves Louis, not Francis, and she’s been so busy trying to convince herself that she could make everyone else happy that she hadn’t even seen what was right in front of her. She glances at Francis, who’s open mouthed and stunned. Then she turns around to go find Louis.  

 

* * *

 

“Mary! How’d it go?”

Louis’ eyes light up when he sees her and she honestly wants to cry. Everything about him is so pure and she can’t even answer his question because she’s too busy fumbling with his helmet, trying to get it off.  

“Mary, what—“ he doesn’t get the rest of his sentence out, because Mary throws her arms around his neck and kisses him senseless. She loves him. It’s an incredible feeling. And looking back on her relationship with Francis, she realizes that this time it’s actually real. Now that she has something to compare Francis to, she knows she’s made the right choice. 

When she finally lets him go he’s grinning widely, his eyes searching her own. “I’m assuming it went well, then?” 

“Terrible, actually. Which only made everything much more obvious.”  

His hands are stroking her face and she feels giddy, unable to control the smile lighting up her face. 

“Everything? You don’t say. And what does ‘everything’ entail?” He repeats her wording from the elevator, which makes her grin. He’s still smiling, but it starts to fade when he notices her face change into a serious expression. _Oh, spit it out already, Stuart, he thinks you’re dumping him, you idiot_ , she thinks to herself. It wasn’t this hard with Francis, but everything about that was wrong, anyway, she knows now. And she’s done comparing them, anyway. She has the best there is; nothing could ever compare to that. 

“Louis, I’m… I think I’m in love with you,” she blurts, biting her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “And I wasn’t sure before, because I was still healing. But I know now. I can give you my heart. My full, strong heart.” She doesn’t know how she’ll take it if he doesn’t feel the same way. The pause before he speaks is probably the scariest moment in her life, and the relief she feels after he opens his mouth to speak is like nothing she’s ever felt before. 

“Mary, I am completely in love with you. When I’m near you, I… am aware of every breath you take. I didn’t know I could love anyone this much.”

She doesn’t know if she’s crying or not, but she kisses him again, hoping that it contains even the smallest amount of her feelings for him. He lets out a small breath when she pulls away again, obviously not wanting to let go, and even though she feels the same, she knows they should probably be getting home. Plus, she doesn’t want the school’s security cameras to have too much of them on tape, either. She wants him all to herself. 

 

* * *

 

Louis drops her off at home with a promise to see her later, and she gives him a long kiss before running inside. Mary waits anxiously for Lola to arrive, pacing back and forth in front of the door. When she sees her friend’s car pull up in the driveway she jumps up and answers the door before the dark-haired girl can even knock. She immediately goes in for a hug, hoping that Lola will understand that she is completely over the entire situation.  

“Mary, I’m so sor—“ Lola begins, but Mary cuts her off with a quick wave of her hand. 

“Don’t be. I’m not angry, really. You’re one of my best friends, Lo, I could never be mad at you.”

“Oh, Mary, I’m so glad you aren’t. But I just need you to know the truth. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know, and I kept it to myself. Please just let me get this out.”  

Mary gestures to the couch and they both sit down. Lola looks nervous, tucking her hair behind her ears. She really shouldn't be, Mary thinks, but doesn’t say anything, just sits quietly untilLola starts her story. 

“Francis just called me to talk, honest, that’s all I thought was going to happen when I got there. He was upset about what was going on with you guys, and I really wanted to help. I’ve always thought you guys were good together.” Mary cringes at that, thinking about all the things her friends didn’t see that went on behind closed doors. “But when I got there he was really drunk, and he was super upset, and he just kissed me. I didn’t even know what to do, I was so caught up in the moment. And then you walked in and everything just got so out of hand and I thought you’d never want to speak to me again. I’m so sorry, Mary, I really am. You’re being way too nice by forgiving me.”  

“Lola, it’s all in the past. All this tells me is that Francis once again didn’t think of me while making a decision, and he used you to get back at me. I am _definitely_ not mad at you, okay? Can we just forget this ever happened? I hate not being able to talk to you.”  

Lola’s the one who leans in for a hug this time, and both girls laugh in relief afterwards. It feels like a huge amount of tension has been lifted from the room. Mary gets up and gestures towards the kitchen. “Let’s go make popcorn before the girls come, and not think about boys for a good few hours, yeah?” 

Lola laughs and follows her. 

* * *

 

Mary texts Louis not to come over when she realizes that she needs more than just a few hours with her friends. She needs the entire night with them in order to be able to detox from the huge amount of drama that has been her life lately, and he completely understands. 

He’ll still be driving her to school, anyway, so it’s not such a big loss, even though she’d love to spend as much time with him as possible. Still, she likes the feeling of being able to spend time apart and not having to worry, and loves that Louis is always so supportive of her. He’d become really good friends with Leith recently, which allowed him to get to know Greer, too. He loved her so much that he hung out with her friends, which meant a lot to her, because they were as important to her (even more so, she had to admit), than he was. Her friends had been there for her her entire life, and she was glad that he understood. 

Mary, Lola, Greer, and Kenna have a huge movie marathon, ranging from classics like _Clueless_ to new movies like _Pacific Rim_ (she’s a huge science fiction nerd, okay?). Kenna loves to make inappropriate jokes, especially about how weirdly incest-y _Clueless_ is. 

“They’re literally related, you guys, this is so wrong.” 

“But they’re in looooove,” Greer sings mockingly. 

Halfway through _The Amazing Spider-Man_ , Lola falls asleep, and Kenna sprays her hand with whipped cream, which ends up all over Lola's face. They have a right laugh about that one. 

The girls leave at around three AM, which is going to suck the next morning, but it’s completely worth it. Mary is so glad their relationship is solid again. She didn’t like keeping things from her friends, and was so happy that everything was finally out in the open.

She sends Louis a text goodnight, and he replies “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, which makes her grin unbelievably wide. Even simple things like this made her glad that they were finally together. She couldn’t wait to see him, either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this was worth the wait!! don't know if anyone is even still reading this story lmao. sidenote: i finally watched the finale. what a clusterfuck, honestly.


End file.
